


Pacific Rim: K-Day

by MaverickSawyer



Series: Forged In Fire [4]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: K-Day, San Francisco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 08:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4012192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaverickSawyer/pseuds/MaverickSawyer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>K-Day... The day the world changed forever.</p><p>These are the stories of those who survived... and those who made the ultimate sacrifice so that others could live.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was rather unhappy with the "Tales From Year Zero" description of K-Day. So I decided to rewrite the story to be more realistic.

**Pacific Rim: K-Day**

**Chapter 1: The Calm Before the Storm…**

_Challenger Deep, Mariana Trench_

_August 4, 2013_

_2300 PDT (5 Aug 2013, 0600 UTC)_

 

_Deep beneath the Pacific Ocean, astronomical energies were unleashed, tearing a hole in the fabric of space and time. For a brief few moments, the eternal night of the abyss was banished, turning the seafloor into a nightmarish landscape._

_Then, a creature not of this world emerged, blocking the light for a few moments as it regained its bearings. Slowly, it began to swim upward, seeking the surface of the ocean._

**_Begin countdown clock: Landfall of Kaiju Trespasser in 6 days, 13 hours, 20 minutes._ **

-.-.-

 

_Airspace over Las Vegas, NV_

_August 6_

_1924 PDT (8 Aug, 0224 UTC)_

_“BOTTLE 1, cleared to land, runway 21 right.”_

Luna Pentecost sighed in relief and toggled the radio transmit button. “Rodger that, Nellis Tower. Cleared to land on runway 21 right.” _‘Bout damned time. Been in the saddle for almost 9 hours now._ She switched her radio to the squadron channel. “Tams, Sticky, aaaand… Moggy. We’re going for 21 right. Finger four, chaps.”

Tamsin’s voice filled Luna’s headset. _“Thank god. Feels like I’m about to fuse to my ejection seat.”_ The Typhoon FGR4 slid smoothly into place left and aft of Luna’s own fighter. _“Although I’d give anything to be allowed out onto the Strip.”_

Luna looked out of the canopy and down at the cityscape below, and at the cluster of casinos in the heart of the city. “Next time, Tams. We’re here for business, not pleasure.”

_“Bugger.”_

Luna looked back to see the newest members of the squadron settle off of her right wingtip. “Right, look sharp. Gotta show the Yanks who’s got class, even after 7 hours of ridge running in their own backyard.”

_“Copy.” “Rog.”_

The four fighters dropped into the approach pattern and began performing a series of smooth breaks to space out their arrival onto the runway. Tamsin broke off to the left, dropping her landing gear and throttling back as she settled into the final approach to the runway. Luna followed a few seconds later, followed by Sticky and Moggy.

Luna watched the VASI off to the side of the runway, making sure that she stayed perfectly aligned with the glide path. _Looking good…_ A brief glance at the taxiway, where Tamsin was taxiing towards her designated slot on the ramp, then back to the runway, which was clear. _Almost done. Just a few more minutes, and that shower is calling my name._

_Chir-dirp… chirp._

Luna’s Typhoon settled back to the ground, brief puffs of smoke erupting from the tires as they touched down. _Yes… Right on the mark._ She triggered the dorsal airbrake and eased on the brakes, slowing her fighter to just above a walking pace.

_“BOTTLE 1, follow BOTTLE 2 to your parking space.”_

“Roger that, Nellis.” _We’ve been here a week and have run fourteen flights in and out of this field. I know where my bloody parking space is._ Luna shook her head and took another deep breath of oxygen from her mask. _At least we’re done for the day. No night sortie tonight._

Luna pulled up next to Tamsin’s plane and eased to a stop, shutting down the engines and setting the parking brake. She waited for a moment, resting her head against the ejection seat headrest, then opened the canopy and unhooked her oxygen mask from her helmet. “Ack. Too dry here.” She looked at the city that sprawled across the desert valley. “Why the hell would someone want to live here?”

The crew chief hooked a ladder into the edge of the cockpit and scrambled up it, a water bottle in hand. “Hey, boss. How’d it go?”

“Oh, nothing special.” Luna pointed to the runway, where an A-10C was just touching down. “Rode shotgun on the Warthogs all day. Chased off a few Aggressor birds myself, but Sticky bagged two.” She took the water bottle from the mechanic. “Gah. So damned dry here. Pure ox doesn’t help.”

Tamsin sauntered over, helmet tucked under her arm. “Come on, Luna. Unass and let’s go get some chow.”

Luna unhooked from her ejection seat and clambered down the ladder. “True. I could use some food.”

The two pilots walked up to their younger counterparts, who were in the middle of talking about their day’s exploits. “… And this Aggressor, he tries to oh hey, boss.”

Tamsin gave a feral grin. “Come on, chow time.”

Sticky immediately followed the red haired pilot to the crew bus waiting at the end of the row of aircraft.

Luna tilted her head towards the bus. “Come on, Moggy. Let’s get some real food, yeah?”

The young Pilot Officer followed Luna to the crew bus. “Ma’am… Question about today’s mission…”

“Go ahead and speak freely, Moggy. I’m not as straight laced as my brother was when he was the squadron CO.”

“Why were we protecting the American aircraft, and why did they protect our Tornados?”

Luna settled into a seat and patted the seat next to her. Moggy paused for a moment before taking the hint. “Because that’s how Red Flag rolls. International cooperation and all that jazz.”

Moggy nodded, then pointed to the Australian AWACS aircraft just down the line. “So that’s why they’re running USAF missions, and we’re under the control of an E-3.”

“Exactly.”

Moggy frowned, clearly deep in thought. “Well, it’s been… educational so far.”

“Cheer up, Moggy. You’ll bag a Red eventually.”

The bus lurched into motion and headed for the barracks.

 

-.-.-

_San Francisco International Airport_

_August 7_

_1917 PDT_

David Ashburn walked off the flight from New York City, briefcase in hand. _Back home in San Fran again. I just wish this deal was running more smoothly. I seem to be spending more time on the east coast than here lately._ He walked along the concourse, headed to the baggage claim. _Could be worse, though. I could be having to hop across the pond for these meetings._

David reached the claim and grabbed his small bag, then headed for the pickup. As he expected, Mia was there in her Corvette. “Hey, good looking. How was it?”

He settled into the passenger seat. “Oh, you know how these things go. Bright kids with a great idea but absolutely _no_ business sense whatsoever, and I get to be the one to tell them that they can’t just run things like they are now if they want to make it to the market.”

“Which is why you get paid the big bucks by Paul.”

“Yeah… but this deal should be the one, Mia. The one that makes it possible to get that house in we’ve been eyeing.”

Mia pulled the Corvette onto Highway 101 and headed north towards the city of San Francisco. “Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, yeah? You still need to close that deal.” She smiled as they drove. “I take it you stopped at Chau’s again?”

“Of course. Sorry I couldn’t bring any leftovers back… you know how the TSA can be.”

Mia shook her head. “And since its _real_ Chinese… it doesn’t keep very well. Nowhere nearly as well as the Americanized version.”

“True.”

They drove north in silence for a few minutes, watching the Bay pass by on the right. David finally spoke up again as they headed inland. “So, any plans for Saturday?”

“No. Why?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to go to Outside Lands.”

“You scamp! I thought they sold out of tickets months ago!”

“Let’s just say that I’ve got some… connections.”

 

-.-.-

_U.S.S. Boxer (LHD-4)_

_Somewhere off the coast of California_

_August 8_

_0600 PDT (1300 UTC)_

Sergeant Enrique Sanchez jogged along the currently-quiet flight deck of the amphibious assault carrier as it steamed through the Pacific Ocean, headed back to its home port of San Diego. _Not many people up and about at this hour… not after CERTEX._ He grinned at the sight of some of the younger members of his platoon stretching and warming up before joining the Sergeant in his morning jog. _Although it’ll be nice to get a night or two ashore before we ship out… this is home for me._

As Sanchez jogged back towards the bow, his platoon leader joined him. “Morning, Sergeant.”

“Morning, sir. Sleep well, sir?”

“Still getting used to the ship’s noises and smells. I mean, I can sleep with a rock for a pillow, but throw me in a room in the bowels of an LHD? Pfft. Insomia central.”

“It does take some getting used to, sir.”

“Foods better than in combat training, though, so that’s a plus.”

“Indeed it is, sir.”

They jogged in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the brisk breeze. Finally, Sanchez stopped by the island. “If you’ll excuse me, sir, I need to go clean up before inspecting the bunk rooms.”

“Very well, Sergeant. I will see you later?”

“Indeed you will.” Sanchez nodded and headed into the ship.

 

 

-.-.-

 

_Nellis AFB Flight Line_

_0900_

 

Olivia “Boomer” Carson scrambled up the ladder to the cockpit of her A-10C Thunderbolt II in preparation for the upcoming sortie. A quick final check of her kneeboard was the only reason she hesitated at the top of the ladder before settling into what she called “the REAL office”. She gave her scalp one last quick scratch before beginning her pre-flight ritual: screwing in her earplugs, pulling a bandana over her pixie-cut hair, and settling her helmet on her head, seating it with a final open palmed _thwack_. One of her support crew made the final connections between her and the aircraft, and the cool rush of oxygen from her mask helped her focus on the task at hand. “Talk to me, Mike.”

Down below the aircraft, Olivia’s crew chief made a final inspection of his aircraft. _“Clear!”_

Olivia flicked a switch, and the APU howled to life. “Check?”

Mike grinned beneath plane. _“In the name of the Father…”_

Olivia pushed the stick all the way forwards, and the elevator dipped towards the ground.

_“And of the Son…”_

Olivia pulled the stick back, and the elevator rose towards the sky.

_“And of the Holy Spirit…”_

Olivia toggled the A-10’s distinctive split-aileron airbrakes and moved the stick all the way to the left, then to the right, then centered it and retracted the airbrakes.

_“Amen.”_

Olivia pushed her right foot all the way down, then her left, then centered it, and the rudders waggled in response.

_“Controls good. Cycle flaps.”_

The young pilot reached over and moved the flaps to the “LANDING” position.

_“Aaand… Good. Retract flaps.”_

The flaps slid back into their normal position, and Olivia looked over to the squadron commander’s aircraft. _Any time, sir…_

As if on cue, the CO’s voice crackled over the radio. _“Alright, Bulldogs. Ready? Canopies…. NOW.”_

Olivia flipped the switch to close her cockpit canopy, and the large bubble of Perspex slid down and forward to seal against the frame. The sudden drop in noise from the bustling flight line was a welcome relief.

_“Cleared for engine start, Bulldogs.”_

_Finally!_ Olivia hit the starters for the right hand engine, and the powerful but fuel efficient TF-34 turbofan began to spin up. _Time to get this show on the road._

 

-.-.-

 

_0905_

“Aw, come on. _Again???_ ”

_“Stuff it, Moggy. We did good last time.”_

Flying Officer Rupert “Moggy” Katz growled at his wingman. “Why do we keep getting the babysitting duty?”

Luna Pentecost’s voice cut off Sticky’s reply. _“Because it’s our bloody job. Now stuff it, Moggy. We’ll be riding with BULLDOG 5 through 8 today. And watch out for the Reds. They’ve been getting crafty lately.”_

“Yes, ma’am.”

_“Right, let’s go meet our friends, shall we? Brakes off in three… two… one… ROLL.”_

 

-.-.-

_15 miles north of Rally Point Delta_

_Nevada Test and Training Range_

_1300_

Captain Miriam Ramirez banked the MH-60G Pave Hawk around a mountain peak, rotors almost brushing the sagebrush that dotted the rocky slope. A whoop from behind her indicated that her door gunner/hoist operator was still strapped in and thoroughly enjoying himself. _Hehehe… Jake hasn’t seen much of this before. Wait’ll we get in closer._ A quick glance over to the left at her copilot, then back to the task at hand: Extracting two downed pilots from behind enemy lines. _Nothing new to me… Did it over in the Rockpile two years ago. This is nothing._

Ahead of her, a pair of A-10s scissored through the air, ready to pounce on any pop-up threats. As she watched, one of them suddenly broke off to the right. Miriam pushed the helicopter a little lower, trying to hide behind the small ridge to her right as much as possible. _Oh, come on… Please be a false alarm…_

The A-10 soon reappeared and waggled its wings, and Miriam climbed slightly higher, then banked around a small stand of cottonwoods as she closed in on the location. She toggled the intercom. “SIXTY SECONDS TO DROPOFF!”

Behind her, the PJs readied themselves for a rappel descent. The doors slid all the way open, and ropes were clipped to the frame of the helicopter.

“TWENTY SECONDS!” Miriam pulled back on the cyclic and up on the collective, and the Pave Hawk slowed it’s headlong rush through the high desert air. “TEN!” The helicopter slowed to an almost hover, the most vulnerable it had been since the mission began. “UNASS!”

Behind her, the Pararescue Jumpers slid down the ropes to the ground below. Above her, a pair of A-10s circled, waiting to pounce on any threats. And off to her right, a pair of other Pave Hawks disgorged their own PJs, closing in on the positions of the downed pilots. _Good so far…_

-.-.-

 

Lieutenant Brandon Pines watched as the PJs from his own Pave Hawk retrieved one of the downed crew and signaled for pickup. He eased the helicopter down to the ground, and the three people hustled aboard. “Good to go?”

A thumbs-up from one of his door gunners was the only response, so he pulled the cyclic up and pushed the collective forward slightly, easing the helicopter into the air and forward.

Off to his right, the third bird in the formation followed suit. Lieutenant D’Onofrio had been a new arrival to the unit just before Red Flag, so he didn’t know much about him. But what Brandon had seen was enough to indicate that Sergio was a skilled pilot and a great wingman.

Ahead and to the left, Captain Gonzalez’s helicopter dipped its nose and accelerated forwards. “Hang on, everyone! It’s about to get a little bumpy!”

 

-.-.-

 

_Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean_

_U.S.S. Albuquerque (SSN-706)_

_August 9_

_0908 PDT_

 

The _Albuquerque_ had been tailing an unusual sonar signature for the last few days as it made its way across the Pacific. It had popped up suddenly off the coast of Guam on the 4th, just as the attack sub had been transiting the area on her way home from a nearly 7 month deployment. The sub commander looked at the latest tracking projections and frowned. _If the Chinese have a new toy, this would be a_ really _ballsy way to test it out._ “You’re sure about this?”

The sonar tech nodded and pointed to another signature on the ship’s fire control system readout. “It’s been trailing this cargo ship for the last few hours. Whatever it is, it’s nothing we’ve ever seen… or heard… before.”

“Any ideas? And you have my permission to be as outlandish as you want.”

“Honestly? Listen to this.” The tech handed the skipper a pair of headphones. “I swear, it sounds like a heartbeat.”

“Yeah, I hear something rhythmic… but it’s really slow. You sure it’s not the cargo ship?”

“Yeah. Here’s our cataloged data from two months ago outside of Hong Kong…” A few seconds of clicking, and a waveform appeared on the screen in front of the tech. “That’s the tub. Now here’s what I’m getting from the system right now.” Another waveform appeared. “Now, if I separate them, I get a perfect match for the freighter, and this oddball…” Again, a new line appeared, drastically different from the freighter. “I ran it past _everything_ we have on board. Volcanic eruptions, whales, schools of fish… even that thunderstorm we went under last cruise. _Nothing matches_.”

“So, what’s your guess, if it is a heartbeat?”

“Something that big? Gojira.”

“What?”

The tech sighed. “Godzilla?”

The skipper frowned. “Godzilla. You’re saying that _Godzilla_ is a mile off our bow, stalking a cargo ship headed from Tokyo to San Francisco.”

“Not saying that’s what it is… That’s just my wild-ass guess based off of what data I have. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

The skipper nodded slowly. “Well, let me know if it changes its pattern.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

-.-.-

 

 _The massive creature had been stalking the noise source for four days. It was not deviating from its course at all._ Perhaps, _it mused_ , it is headed to its home. There shall be many vermin there. Finding their source is more important than eliminating this… nuisance... and eliminating the element of surprise.

_Silently, it continued to trail its prey, unaware that it was itself being stalked._

 


	2. Zero Hour

**Pacific Rim: K-Day**

**Chapter 2: Zero Hour**

_153 nautical miles off the coast of California_

_U.S.S. Albuquerque (SSN-706)_

_August 10, 2013_

_0400 PDT_

_Landfall in 6 hours, 20 minutes…_

“Sir?”

“Hmm?”

“Sir, you asked me to wake you if the contact didn’t change course. We’re about 150 miles off the coast, sir.”

The commander of the _Albuquerque_ nodded and wiped his face with his hands. “Any warm coffee around, son?”

The seaman presented the commander with a mug of coffee. “Figured you’d need it, sir.”

“Thanks.” He took a sip of the coffee and walked towards the sonar room. “Gimme news, guys.”

“Sir, contact is _not_ deviating from its course. It’s still hanging out just aft of the freighter.”

“Speed?”

“25 knots, sir. Depth is 360 feet.”

“Hmmm… Keep an eye on it… and get ready to provide a firing solution if needed.”

“Sir?”

“ _If needed._ Not yet.”

“Understood.”

The skipper walked back to the conn. “Bring us to periscope depth, and raise the satcomm mast. I need to make a call.”

The helmsman nodded. “Aye, sir. Going to periscope depth.”

 

-.-.-

 

_“Commander. Didn’t expect to see you up so early.”_

“Sadly, the situation has required be to be up. That contact we’ve been tracking the last few days?”

_“What about it?”_

“It’s now six hours from San Francisco. If it’s hostile…”

_“That’s a mighty big ‘if’, Commander. And not one that I can authorize you to act on.”_

“Sir, this is _time critical._ If we’re to interdict this…”

_“Then yankee search the bastard. See how he likes that. We’ll also scramble a bird to harass him. If he continues… then we’ll see what happens.”_

The commander sighed, then nodded. “Understood, sir.”

 _“Contact me if things don’t change for the better.” Blit_.

The commander walked back to the conn. “Alright, people. Back to stalking stations… and prepare to go active on my mark. One pulse, then silent running.”

 

-.-.-

 

_The creature could hear the increasingly loud sounds of what had to be a major infestation of vermin. **Success… Almost time to-**_

** Weee-EEEEEeeee-deep. **

_The creature instinctively looked over its shoulder, seeking the source of the noise. **Impossible… I couldn’t have been followed…**_

_No further sounds emanated from that direction, though. **Another odd noise among many in these waters. And no mere sound can harm me… But best to be on my guard, regardless…**_

 

-.-.-

 

“Sir, contact has _not_ changed course!”

“You sure?”

“Yes sir. Wait… Contact is diving!”

“Take us back to periscope depth NOW!” The skipper turned to the sonar tech. “Keep reading out the data, son.”

“Periscope depth, aye!”

“Aye, sir.”

 

-.-.-

 

_“Well, that was fast. What happened?”_

“Admiral, the contact has _not_ deviated from its course, and has descended below our operational limits. At this time, I am going to assume that the target is hostile and attempting to evade any aggressive actions we may take against it.”

_“That’s a rather rash decision, Commander.”_

“I am requesting permission to open fire on the target.”

_“Request denied. I will not risk an international incident over a possible misunderstanding. Do I make myself clear?”_

The skipper ground his teeth for a few seconds before replying. “Crystal, sir.”

_“Good. Anything else?”_

“Any idea when you might be able to get an Orion on this thing?”

_“Two hours. There’s one down in San Diego right now. We’ll have it come up and harass it.”_

The skipper sighed. _Too damn long._ “Alright. We’ll continue to track it, sir. But if breaches Territorial waters…”

_“Then hammer it again with sonar, continuously. If it doesn’t turn back… contact me.”_

“Sir.” He cut the connection and walked to the conn again. “Keep after it. We’ve got at least two hours until they can get an Orion out here.” He sat down in a chair. “Let’s not lose it, alright?”

“Sir, it’s headed for the thermocline at 750 feet. Should we follow?”

“Absolutely. Keep a lock on it.”

The sonar tech nodded and turned to the helmsman. “Can you get us down there?”

“Yes. Brace for dive!”

Once again, the _Albuquerque_ descended into the depths, seeking its prey.

 

-.-.-

 

_25 miles off Monterey Bay_

_U.S.S. Boxer (LHD-4)_

_0620_

 

Sergeant Sanchez took a break from his morning jog around the flight deck to savor the calm ocean air. _Favorite time of the day… no hustle and bustle, no flight ops, nothing. Just me and the sunrise._ After a few moments, he resumed his jog. _Today should be a quiet day of paperwork and inspections before tomorrow’s shore leave._

 

-.-.-

 

_Nellis AFB_

_That same time_

Captain Ramirez took one last look at the packed ramp before she climbed aboard her Pave Hawk. _It was nice to be here for Red Flag. Wish we could take part in the live ordinance drills today, but hey, all we got are door guns. Not real splashy stuff._

Under her skillful command, the twin T700 turboshafts spooled up, and the helicopter once again prepared to defy the laws of gravity (and nature, some would argue). “Radio check. PELICAN 1.”

Brandon’s voice came over the radio next. _“PELICAN 2. Good to go, boss.”_

_“PELICAN 3. Ready to go for a spin, Captain.”_

Miriam checked her kneeboard to confirm the final radio and navigation system settings, then radioed the tower. “Nellis Tower, PELICAN, flight of 3, ready to depart.”

_“Copy that, PELICAN. Glad you guys could come. Cleared to depart at your discretion.”_

Miriam chuckled as she eased the collective upwards, lifting the CSAR helicopter from the tarmac. _Now the boring part begins. Why command thought it would be a good idea to hopscotch from airport to airport all the way up to Washington is beyond me…_

 

-.-.-

 

_Nellis AFB_

_Flight crew mess hall_

_0709_

“Mind if I sit here?”

Olivia looked up from her mission notes to see one of the RAF pilots looking at the empty spot across from her. “Oh… go for it.”

“Thanks.” He sat down and looked at her flight suit patches. “A-10 pilot?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Which one are you?”

“Number 8.”

“Aha! Rode shotgun on you guys yesterday during the CSAR run. Mighty fine shooting, tagging an aggressor with the big gun.”

“Aw, that was a snap shot. Pure luck. I should have used the Sidewinders, but I just didn’t have time to line up the shot or select them. Just… pulled the trigger on instinct.” Olivia looked down. “I shouldn’t have done that. What if it were in an urban area and I’d missed?”

“Fact of the matter is, you didn’t. Nice, clean kill. I’m rather jealous, actually. Almost two weeks here, and I still haven’t scored a kill.”

A pair of women in RAF flight suits came up behind the pilot and mocked slapping him upside the head. “Come off it, Moggy. There’s still today!”

“With respect, Tams, _stuff it._ ”

The two women laughed and headed off to another table. Olivia raised an eyebrow at the display. “Your CO, I take it?”

“Tams is the XO. Luna’s the CO.”

“She’s a little young, isn’t she?”

“Nah. She’s good.”

“And Moggy is your handle, yes?”

The Brit groaned. “They stuck it on me in flight school because my last name is Katz.”

“I… don’t follow.”

“‘Moggy’?”

“Yeah… what’s that got to do with cats?”

“Oh! It’s slang. A moggy is a cat.”

“Ooooohhh…”

“So, you have a call sign or handle?”

It was Olivia’s turn to groan. “‘Boomer.’”

Moggy grinned. “Oh, this sounds interesting. I assume that the statute of limitations has expired?”

Olivia looked around, then leaned in a little closer. “Mostly. Let’s just say that I had a little too much time on my hands and a few… questionable… fireworks at my disposal one evening at flight school.”

Moggy leaned back. “Aaaahhh… so that’s why you got stuck in the ol’ Warthogs, eh?”

“Oh, no. I requested this slot. And they were more than happy to give it to me.” Olivia leaned back and looked at the notes in the knee pouch of her flight suit again. “So… you guys get any live stuff today, or is it just us mud movers?”

“Alas, we are unarmed today. More top cover, I’m afraid.”

“Shame. I’d love to see a Typhoon ready to fill the role of its namesake from WWII.”

“I would as well. Just not this time, I’m afraid.” He shrugged and turned his attention to his breakfast.

Olivia smiled and dug into her meal as well.

 

-.-.-

 

_San Francisco, CA_

_0751_

David paced near the door of the apartment he shared with Mia. “Come on, Mia. We’re gonna be late!”

Mia poked her head out of the bathroom. “Relax, David. It’s a festival, not a business meeting. The only way to be late is to show up this afternoon.” She ducked back into the bathroom and continued to talk. “And I guarantee that won’t be the case.”

David growled quietly under his breath and looked at the door. “Coulda fooled me…”

“I HEARD THAT.”

_Damnit. Forgot how good her hearing was…_

Mia came out of the bathroom and wrapped her arms around David’s shoulders. “Alright, I’m ready.” She reached over to the small table in the entryway and grabbed David’s unusual sunglasses. “I still don’t get why you like these things. The blinders on the side are uncomfortable.”

“Hey, it keeps the sun out a little better! Besides…” He whipped them on with a grin. “It makes me look cooler.”

Mia tilted her head to the side as she looked at her boyfriend. “Okay, I’ll give you that one.” She smiled and dragged him out the door. “Well, come on! You were the one who didn’t want to be late!”

 

-.-.-.-.-

 

_0917_

_U.S.S. Albuquerque (SSN-706)_

“SIR! Contact has crossed over the continental shelf!”

The skipper growled. “Damnit. It’s too shallow for us to follow him. Take us up to periscope depth, helmsman.”

“Periscope depth, aye.”

The _Albuquerque_ once again slipped up from the depths to just below the surface, where she raised a radio antenna. “HOOVER 17, this is _Albuquerque._ Bogey has moved into the littoral region by the Farallons and we are unable to pursue.”

 _“Roger,_ Albuquerque. _We’ll take it from here. Thanks for the handoff.”_

“No problem. _Albuquerque,_ signing off.”

The skipper frowned and looked off into the distance. _Whatever it is… I hope it’s not too hard to take out._

 

-.-.-

 

_0957_

_Aboard HOOVER 17, 100 feet above the Pacific Ocean_

 

“TACCO, your folks got anything?”

“Negative… nothing- Wait.” The TACCO looked out the window of the P-3C Orion at the water below. “Yeah, Mark 1 Eyeball beats tech again. I got a wake where there’s no boat. No idea what’s there, though. Bring us around and make a west-east pass, headed towards the bridge. Gonna use the EO/IR package and see what we can get.”

“Copy, west to east along the shipping channel.”

The sub hunter arced out over the ocean and came back towards the mainland, still at low altitude. The crew watched their instruments nervously, hoping to pick up any sign of this elusive target. Finally, the camera system picked out the wake the TACCO had spotted… and what was causing it.

“Jesus… Get on the horn with command NOW!”

 

-.-.-

 

_1000_

_Angel Island Ferry dock_

 

Tendo grinned as he took one last sip from his energy drink. _Ah… That’s more like it._ He looked towards the Golden Gate, which was shrouded in fog, as usual. _Good day to take some people to the Island._ He flicked his cigarette into the bay and walked onto the ferry. “Mornin’, Mackie.”

“Tendo.”

Tendo headed to the bridge of the ferry to help oversee the departure from dock. “Right, let’s get this show on the road.”

 

-.-.-

 

_Port of Oakland_

_Oakland, CA_

_1010_

 

Colin "Crunch" O'Malley swore as he busted his knuckles against the deck as he fought a recalcitrant bolt on the container freighter. "Useless piece of crap won't break loose!" He kicked the wrench with his steel-toed boot, and with a tortured screech, the bolt loosened. "About damn time it came loose."

The young greenhorn of the repair crew came over. "Crunch, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Got that bolt loose for ya."

"Thanks!" The young man settled back to work on the access panel, easily pulling the rest of the bolts loose. "I'll make sure to put lube on the new bolt so it doesn't do that to the next guy."

"Smart move, greenhorn."

 

-.-.-

 

_35,000 feet above the Central Valley_

_That same time_

 

_“TALON Flight, this is HOOVER 17. Come in, TALON Flight.”_

The pilot of the F-22 Raptor frowned at the unfamiliar voice. “Go ahead, HOOVER.”

_“We’ve got an issue here, and we need your help. I’ve got someone else already on the line with the 144 th in Fresno, but you’re already airborne… and faster.”_

“What can we do for you, HOOVER?”

_“We’ve got… uh, it’s kinda weird…”_

“Spit it out.”

_“Godzilla’s ugly-ass cousin is about to attack San Francisco. We’re unarmed, as we were out on a training mission…”_

“Hold on… _Godzilla._ ”

_“Can you just haul ass down here, please? We’ll explain while you’re en route.”_

“Hold one.”

_“Copy.”_

The pilot switched to the common channel used by the three planes of the flight. “Guys?”

_“If this is anything other than a prank, we’re toast if we don’t haul ass.”_

_“Agreed. Let’s get down there.”_

“Right.” The pilot quickly pulled up a map and targeted San Francisco International. “Let’s go. Supercruise is authorized, as this is now officially an intercept. Break right… NOW.”

The three fighters came around to the west and accelerated smoothly through the sound barrier, hurtling across the Sacramento/San Joaquin Delta towards San Francisco. “Right, Inbound now, HOOVER. ETA, 9 mike. Sitrep?”

_“Bogey is large. Think ship sized. It’s currently swimming in the shipping channel straight into the bay. However, it’s running outta water real quick. Probably gonna stand up just before the Golden Gate Bridge. What are you carrying?”_

“Just 20 mike mike. We were headed down to Palmdale for depot maintenance.”

There was a long, awkward silence on the radio. _“Only cannon ammo?”_

“Affirmative.”

_“Well, shit. This ain’t gonna go well.”_

 

-.-.-

 

_Golden Gate Bridge_

_1020_

 

_The Kaiju felt the seabed beneath its feet, and the water atop its spine. **It is time**._

_Standing tall, the Kaiju let out a triumphant roar…_

**_ “SKRAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWRRRRRR!!!!!!” _ **

_It moved forwards, closing in on the puny barrier in its path. **Ahhh, destruction time…**_

 

-.-.-.-.-

 

 


	3. Opening Salvo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4/8/2017: Couple of formatting changes and a few new clarifying sentences.

**Pacific Rim: K-Day**   
**Chapter 3: Opening Salvo**

_San Francisco, CA_   
_August 10, 2013_   
_1020 PDT_

“SKKKKKRRRRAAAAAWWWWWRRRRRR!!!!”  
The massive creature lumbered towards the Golden Gate Bridge as the California Highway Patrol desperately scrambled to clear people off the span. It loomed over the road deck as it neared, and people abandoned their vehicles and fled on foot.  
Then, it grabbed hold of the iconic bridge and tore it apart, roaring a challenge to all who would dare oppose it.  
The three F-22 Raptors of Talon Flight answered the call, opening fire with the only weapons they had onboard at the time: their guns.  
“VVVRRRRRRRRRRPPPPP!!!!” The powerful M61-A1 20mm rotary cannons each spent their entire load of 500 rounds in 5 seconds flat.  
All 1500 rounds bounced off the thick hide of the Kaiju.  
“ _TALON 1, I’m outta-”_  
 _“LOOK OUT LOOK OUT LOOK OUT-”_  
The F-22 pilot never saw the tail that swatted him from the sky as he flashed past the Kaiju’s left flank.  
_“HOOVER 17, NO CHUTE. REPEAT, NO CHUTE!”_  
The TACCO hung his head. “Roger, negative chute. Bug out and go get some heavy stuff…” He looked out the window at the Kaiju as it waded into the Bay proper. “We’re gonna need it…”

-.-.-

_Golden Gate Park_   
_1021_

“SKKKKKRRRRAAAAAWWWWWRRRRRR!!!!”  
The festival ground to an immediate halt as the unearthly sound rolled down the peninsula. David and Mia both looked at each other, confusion evident on their faces. The hell??? However, the near-permanent summer fog bank at the Golden Gate hid whatever caused the sound. And San Francisco was nothing if not eccentric at times. Most of the attendees of the festival returned to their activities.  
David, however, was concerned. _I’ve called this city home for a long time… and I’ve NEVER heard anything like that._ He pulled out his smartphone and pulled up the local news. Splashed across the page was a live feed of the Golden Gate, where a massive creature was wading towards the Presidio. It’s massive… and headed our way. “Mia…”  
Mia looked at the feed, and the color drained from her face. “I need to get to the hospital! There’s going to be a lot of triage to do…”  
“Come on, let’s go.”  
The two raced out of the park, fighting through the growing crowds.

-.-.-

_Nellis AFB_   
_Briefing room_   
_1025_

  
Olivia Carson watched as a technician ran out onto the briefing stage, tablet in hand. _That’s very odd… why would she interrupt the morning brief? Especially before a live-fire exercise…_  
There was brief and hushed discussion before the briefer nodded once and took the tablet from the tech, who promptly sprinted off the stage. “Alright, everyone, change of plans.” The briefer hooked the tablet to the projector, and a video of the Kaiju wading through the Bay replaced the map of the training ranges. “This is a live feed from San Francisco. We’re not sure what it is… but it’s already torn the Golden Gate Bridge in half, swatted an F-22 from the sky, and is headed towards the Presidio area of the city.” He paused to take a look at something on the screen that wasn’t fed to the projectors. “There are more than a million people in the path of this… thing, and it’s going to be at least an hour before we get there.”  
Olivia hesitated for a moment before standing up. “‘We’, sir?”  
Olivia’s commander buried his head in his hand with a muttered _“damnit, Boomer…”_  
“That’s right. We’re the second nearest, but largest, combat-ready aerial force to the scene. And all the aircraft are loaded with live ordinance.” The briefer looked at the assembled crews. “This is a volunteer mission…”  
Every single pilot stood up.  
“Alright, then. To your planes. Further instructions will be given en route.”  
Olivia looked at the British unit, which was already filing towards the door. The briefer stopped their commander. “Luna… You don’t have to do this.”  
“That’s bullshit, Leon, and you know it. I know we don’t have any air to ground stuff loaded right now… but let us help.” She waved the rest of the squadron to the door, and all but Moggy and Tamsin rushed out to their planes. “After all, it’s the first chance we’ve gotten to repay the favor we owe you from the Blitz.”  
“I can’t tell you no, Luna. It’d have to come from the base commander…”  
“And you know what he’d say.”  
Liam sighed. “Go. We’ll have the ordinance guys get you some stuff for when you return to run another sortie.”  
Luna nodded and sprinted out the door, the other pilots close behind.

-.-.-

_U.S.S. Boxer (LHD-4)_   
_Off the coast of Santa Cruz, CA_   
_1027_

“Sergeant?”  
Enrique Sanchez looked up from the paperwork to see his platoon leader in the doorway. “Yes, sir?”  
“We’ve… got a situation.”  
“Go on.”  
“Uhm… Captain said to fill you in on the way to the armory.”  
Sanchez’s eyebrows went up at the last word. “Well, then. Lead on, Lieutenant.”  
They walked towards the armory, dodging hurried crewmen all the way. “San Francisco’s under attack.”  
Sanchez stopped dead in his tracks. “San Fran’s under attack? From who? Hajis? China? Putin?”  
“‘Godzilla’s ugly ass cousin’ was the line I heard being tossed around by the Colonel.”  
“Hang on, LT. You sure they’re not pranking you?”  
The younger officer frowned at the memory of being sent all over the ship in search of several non-existent items. “No, Sergeant. Not this time.” He gestured at a racing crewman with a bright purple vest on. “Flight deck is hopping, hangar’s prepping every bird we’ve got for launch… And the redshirts are breaking down the chow hall for ordinance assembly right now.”  
Sanchez growled and ducked down another corridor. “I’ll be there in three.”  
“Where are you going?”  
“I need something. I’ll be there, I promise. MAKE A HOLE!” The Sergeant barreled down the corridor and around a corner.  
The Lieutenant shook his head. _What I would have given up just to have a quiet and simple CERTEX cruise…_ “GANGWAY!”

-.-.-

_London, England_   
_1730 GMT (1030 PDT)_

Stacker Pentecost’s phone buzzed at him. He pulled it out. Luna. _About damn time she called._ “Luna. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you. Are you seeing this?”  
“Yeah, listen… I don’t have much time. I just wanted to call you really quick because I’m on the tarmac at Nellis. My squadron’s about to fly a sortie against this thing.”  
Pentecost frowned. _I knew it. She’s at Red Flag. She never was good at lying to me. Best play along, though…_ “You’re joking, right? You’re on holiday.”  
He could hear the suppressed laugh in his sister’s voice. “That was a cover. We’ve been training with the Yanks in the new fighters.”  
“The Americans can’t order you to do this, Luna. You’re RAF.”  
“We volunteered.”  
Even through the long distance connection, Pentecost could hear the pride in her voice. The unspoken message of we all volunteered, you dolt. “Can I ask why?”  
There was a muffled shout in the background, and a faint “My brother!” _Tamsin, no doubt_. A moment later, Luna confirmed Stacker’s suspicions. “Tamsin says ‘Hi’.”  
Stacker rubbed his temples, trying to relieve the growing headache. “Why did you volunteer?”  
“Because seventy two years ago, our hometown was being bombed by the Luftwaffe, and a handful of Yanks had the bollocks to come fly with us. It’s about damn time we returned the favor.”  
Stacker groaned and debated signaling the bartender for another shot. “That’s beautiful, Luna, but we both know it’s because you want to slay a dragon.”  
“True! How many chanced will I get?”  
Damnit, sis… “You be careful. It looks like the apocalypse out there.”  
Pentecost could hear the grin on his sister’s face. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” There was a distinctive howl in the background that Stacker’s trained ear identified as an F-15 Eagle spooling up its engines. “Right, gotta go. Love ya!” Click.  
Stacker looked at the phone, worry clouding his face. _Good luck, sis._

-.-.-

_Merced, CA_   
_1035_

Miriam Ramirez ran to her Pave Hawk, already on the phone with her commander. “Yeah, you see the news?”  
“Wait a sec… Go-Oh my god.”  
“Just calling to warn you: We’re goin’ in. Not a request.”  
There was a pause on the other end. Come on, sir… back me up…  
“Go. Get as many people outta there as you can, Miri.”  
Miriam hung up and pocketed her phone. “LET’S GO!”  
To her right, Brandon let out a whoop and slid his helmet on, already starting the engines of his helicopter. Further down, Sergio followed suit. _Alright, let’s go save some lives._

-.-.-

_Port of Oakland_   
_1045_

Crunch grabbed his tool box and ran to the docks, waving at a passing boat headed back to pick up more survivors. "WAIT UP!"  
"You want to go into the city?"  
"Yep."  
The boat driver just waved him aboard, and Crunch skillfully climbed aboard.  
Crunch looked at the city, now becoming shrouded in a pall of smoke and dust, and pulled his respirator out of his toolbox, and pulled goggles over his eyes. Just like in that dust storm in Baghdad...  
The boat pulled up to the pier on the San Francisco side, and Crunch hopped out and helped the next batch of evacuees into the boat.  
The driver looked at Crunch. "I didn't catch your name."  
"Crunch O'Malley."  
"Good luck, Crunch!"  
"You too, sir!"  
The boat pulled away, and Crunch jogged along, looking for something to do to help.

-.-.-

_U.S.S. Boxer (LHD-4)_   
_1050_

Sergeant Sanchez watched the company commander step out in front of the assembled unit in the armory. “Alright, Marines! I’m sure you’ve seen the news.”  
There was a rumble of assent from the Marines.  
“We’re going into the city to help with the evacuation. We’re going to establish landing zones in the parks, playgrounds, and parking lots. If you have to do some demolition to clear a space, do it. Priority is getting the civilians out of the area.”  
One of the most recent additions to the company spoke up. “Sir… how are we doing the evac?”  
“However we can. There’s 800,000 plus people inside of city limits, and another couple hundred thousand south of the city on the peninsula. And they’re all in the line of fire. So, if you have to commandeer a bus, do it. If you have to hotwire a van… Yes, Silva, I’m giving you permission.” There were some chuckles from the soldiers, but they died off quickly. “Like I said, get the people out. I don’t know how long we have before the heavy weapons come into play, but assume that we’ve got 12 hours, tops, before the nukes come.”  
Silence filled the room.  
“Yes, I did say nukes. Because, honestly? That’s probably what it’s going take to kill that thing.” The captain looked at his men and women. “And try not to get caught by that thing, okay? I don’t want to write home to your families to explain that you got eaten by that thing, or stepped on by it.” He paused for a moment to let his message sink in. “Now let’s get out there and save some lives. Whatever it takes.”  
_**“OOOHRAH!”**_  
The Marines jogged down the corridors to the flight deck, where 8 MV-22 Ospreys waited to carry them on the 60 mile flight into the city.

-.-.-

_Pier 1_   
_San Francisco_   
_1100_

Tendo Choi darted through the crowds trying to flee the Embarcadero, headed into the city. “MOVE!”  
“You’re crazy! It’s coming this way!”  
Tendo ignored the fleeing man and continued to fight his way through the crowds. Finally, he broke free and raced across the Embarcadero and up Sacramento Street. “Damnit… MOVE, PEOPLE!”  
A surge of panicked people almost pushed Tendo back towards the waterfront, but he managed to slip through and continue towards Chinatown. “YEYE!”  
Tendo skidded to a stop in front of the building his grandfather lived in. “YEYE!” He raced up the stairs, still calling his grandfather’s name. “YEYE?” Oh, come on, please have evacuated already…  
Yeye Choi opened his door to see Tendo, clearly out of breath. “Come on, old man. We gotta go!” Tendo gestured outside, and Yeye seemed to get the idea. The two headed down the stairs and back out to the street. “It’s alright, I got ya. But we need to hustle.” Tendo felt the ground shake from the massive footfalls nearby. “It’s getting-”  
“ROOOOOAAAAAAARRRRRR!!!!!!!!”  
Tendo’s head spun to the north and looked over the buildings across the street. “Closer…”  
Looming above them, the Kaiju looked down on them and tilted its head, observing them.  
Tendo stared back at it, terrified, before deciding that he did not want to become lunch. He eyed a van across the street. _Huh. Now THAT I can hotwire…_ “Over here!” He began to drag his grandfather behind him when he heard the rush of… well, something FAST. He looked to the south and saw a small, fast moving speck turn into a fighter jet… which then fired a missile at the creature.  
Tendo practically dove into the van, where, to his surprise, the keys were still in the ignition. _I’ll take small miracles like this when I can get ‘em!_  
_**CRUMP.**_  
Tendo flinched at the loud sound, and the van sputtered. “Aaaarrrrgggghhhh… COME ON!”  
_Plit… plitplitplitplitsplishpish…_  
Yeye cried out in disgust as blue fluid fell from the creature’s flank where the missile had struck. _Yuck. Is that blood?_ “Come on, Yeye! GET IN!”  
Yeye finally sat down, and Tendo promptly stomped on the gas and tore off to the south.  
Overhead, another fighter streaked in and unleashed a barrage of rockets before breaking off to the west.

-.-.-

_Nellis AFB_   
_That same time…_

Luna pounded her canopy in frustration. _God DAMN it… there’s people dying in San Francisco, and we’re unable to help them. All because we’re last in line to launch…_  
“BOTTLE Flight, cleared to launch at your discretion. All airspeed restrictions lifted, direct flight path and supersonic flight authorized. Tanker dedicated to your squadron is SHAMU 11, 122.25, 2-5-thousand. Happy hunting, guys.”  
“FINALLY.” Luna toggled the radio. “Copy, Nellis Tower. BOTTLE out.” She switched to the squadron frequency. “Right, let’s roll. Full reheat until we hit cruise altitude, then we haul ass in supercruise to the target. Luna out.” Luna shoved her left hand forwards and the twin EJ-2000 turbofans howled to full power, hurling her fighter down the runway. Behind and to the right of her, Tamsin followed suit.

-.-.-

Olivia looked over her shoulder to see the Typhoons hurtle skyward like homesick angels. “Go get ‘em, Moggy. But leave some for us slowpokes.” She returned her focus to the cockpit of her own airplane, where the airspeed indicator was pegged out at 350 knots. “For once, I wish I was in a fast mover. Just this once…”

-.-.-

_500 feet above the Pacific Ocean_   
_1115_

Enrique Sanchez loved the MV-22. It was fast, had good range… But it was noisier than the older CH-46s that he had flown on during his first cruise. And those weren’t the quietest aircraft around, either. Right now, he was glad that the butterbar had remembered to hand out hearing protection before they boarded. Kid’s alright. Needs a little work still, but if he pulls through this in one piece, he’ll be good. He looked at the young 2nd Lieutenant, who looked a little green around the gills. He leaned across the narrow aisle in the hold of the tilt rotor. “YOU OKAY, SIR?”  
“FIRST TIME GOING INTO A REAL MISSION.”  
“YOU’LL DO FINE, SIR!” There was a distinct change in the engine sound, and the tilt rotor began to slow. Here we go! “GET READY, MARINES!”  
At the aft end of the hold, the door opened to reveal the beach and part of the city. Then, the view tipped as the aircraft banked towards their designated LZ. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach, and the view of the city was cut off by trees as the Osprey settled towards the ground. Then, all was still as the wheels contacted the… Soccer fields? _Whatever._ _“UNASS!”_  
Enrique raced out of the hold and settled into a kneeling position aft of the tilt rotor, M4 held muzzle down and to the left. Beside him, the 2LT stumbled into position, followed by the rest of the squad. “Alright, sir! What’s the plan?”  
Before the officer could respond, a small gaggle of civilians raced out from the trees and straight to the Osprey. “TAKE US!”  
The two Marines looked at each other, back to the tilt rotor, then back to the civilians. “Ideas, Seargent?”  
“Evac ‘em. Let the crew sort out where to take ‘em.”  
“Sounds good.” The Lieutenant stood up and let the sling carry his own M4. “Easy, folks! We’ll get you out of here. How many people?”  
There was a small shuffling of people in the group before one of them came forward. “Twenty?”  
“Go!” He handed the lady his earplugs. “Use these! It’s loud onboard!”  
The lady hugged him and sprinted aboard the transport. Around him, the other Marines gave up their own hearing protection for the civilians to use. “Five more, or send it?”  
“We’ll need to get more boots on the ground here ASAP, sir.”  
“Right.” The Lieutenant turned around and gave the signal to go, then ducked back down into a crouch, back to the tilt rotor. The craft’s engines spooled up to full power in a blast of dirt and grass. It climbed above the trees and began to transition back to cruise mode, vanishing behind the trees, leaving only the Marines and some tire marks on the grass to indicate it had been there in the first place.  
“Right, let’s get moving. We need to set up the LZ for the big guys.”  
Sanchez nodded. “Yes, sir. MOVE OUT, MARINES!”

-.-.-

_Airspace over Daly City_   
_1122_

Miriam cursed at the sight of the city, already shrouded in a haze of ash and dust. _It looks like New York on 9/11… Gonna be hell on the engines._ “Anyone see any good landing zones?”  
Sergio responded immediately. “Maybe we should follow that Super Stallion. Ten o’clock low, near the beach.”  
Miriam looked over the nose of the helicopter and down to the left. “Got it. Anyone know what channels the Marines use?”  
“Nope.” “Negative.”  
A fourth voice came over the radios. _“PELICAN flight, this is HOOVER 17. We have the info you need.”_  
“HOOVER 17, who and what are you?”  
There was hint of smugness in the reply. _“We’re the P-3C orbiting Angel Island at 2000 feet. We’ve been tracking this guy since he hit the continental shelf.”_  
“And you didn’t attack him?”  
_“All we have onboard is some sonobuoys and flares. I don’t think that’d hurt him.”_  
Miriam shook her head in dismay. “Alright. Gimme those frequencies.”

-.-.-

_UCSF Emergency Room Lobby_   
_1130_

Mia pushed her way through the crowds and into the lobby of the emergency room at the Kaiser hospital. “MOVE, PEOPLE!”  
Across the lobby, a gloved set of hands waved. “Mia! Over here!”  
Mia worked across the lobby and snagged a pair of gloves off a nearby cart. “What’ve we got?”  
“You saw that thing out there, right?”  
“Hard to miss.”  
“Where is it right now? The cell networks have crashed and the internet’s overloaded, so we’re blind...”  
Mia wiped her forehead with a sleeve. “Last I saw, it was smashing Union Square flat.”  
“Oh, God.”  
“Look, we need to get people out of here. If they stay… they’re as good as dead, no matter how good our care.”  
The doctor’s face paled. “How are we going to do that? We’ve got the trauma ward full already!”  
Mia turned around. “DAVID! Get us some way to get people out of here!”  
David nodded and darted out the door.  
“Alright, let me scrub in…”  
“No, I need you to help with triage.”  
Mia hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Got it. MOVE IT, PEOPLE!”

-.-.-

_AT &T Park ferry terminal_   
_1143_

Tendo had quickly found out why the van had been abandoned. After a few blocks, it ran out of gas and quit. So he and Yeye got out and walked down to the next ferry terminal down the peninsula…  
Yeye said something in Cantonese that sounded vaguely like a question about the next step. He sighed. “I don’t know, Yeye.” He looked back at the city, disappearing in the smoke and dust. “We wait, I guess.”  
There was a faint rushing sound, and Tendo looked back out over the water. He had just enough time to realize that they were a new set of fighters before they were on top of him, tearing the air asunder as they hurtled towards the creature. Several of them released missiles and immediately climbed, pale orange plumes emerging from the engines as the pilots engaged the afterburners.  
Yeye clapped his hands to his ears and dropped to the ground, quickly repeating the same saying over and over again.  
There was a ripple of orange light in the dust cloud, followed by several sharp WHACKs as the shockwaves reached Tendo’s location.  
“Jesus… They aren’t messing around!”  
Another howl rose behind Tendo, and he looked up in time to see four Typhoons streak overhead…

-.-.-

Luna saw the dim outline of her target through the haze as she streaked in over the Bay. “Target sighted.”  
Tamsin chimed in on the common channel. “Jesus! Look at the size of him!”  
Luna tried to lock her radar on the creature. “Focus, Tamsin! We’ll take pictures when he’s dead.” Her headset chimed to indicate that, wonder of wonders it had a lock. She shunted the data over the local datalink to the other planes in the flight. “Let’s light him up.”  
Beneath the wings of the four Typhoons, eight AIM-120B AMRAAMs leapt off their rails and accelerated towards the target, before detonating just short of the target. The rapidly expanding continuous-rod warheads then impacted the hide of the creature… who didn’t even notice.  
Luna watched as a freshly-arrived F-15E lobbed a 500 pound bomb at the creature with similar success. “DAMN IT! The 82s are just bouncing off his hide!”  
“AMRAAMs aren’t doing much better.”  
Luna ground her teeth as she looped back around. _This isn’t working… We need a new plan_. A glow caught her eye. Hey, let’s try something stupid and crazy.  
Tamsin chimed in over the radio again with her own observations. “I’ll let you know when I find the ugly sods ball-sack. We’ll give it a proper kick.”  
There were a few chuckles as Luna streaked out over the Pacific and swung back around to line up her run. _Only going to get one shot at this before Tamsin chews me out for stupidity… again._ “Has anyone tried shoving a Sidewinder down his throat?”  
As expected, Tamsin was clearly unenthused. “Don’t do anything stupid, Luna.”  
“Who? Me?” Luna added a small amount of afterburners to reduce the chances of being intercepted. _Lock up, baby, lock up._  
“Luna…”  
A growl filled Luna’s ears. _YES! I have tone!_ “I’ve got him.” She squeezed the trigger, and the AIM-9 flashed off the rail and towards the beast.  
“WATCH YOUR FLANK! HE’S-”  
Luna’s eyes flickered to the left in time to see the massive hand of the creature closing in on her. **_Shi-_**

-.-.-

Moggy watched helplessly as Luna’s plane was swatted from the sky in a ball of fire.  
“LUNA!!!” Tamsin’s anguished cry filled the airwaves as Moggy pulled up alongside her.  
“Tams, you okay?”  
There was no reply as the two Typhoons rushed to the north.  
“Tams, talk to me.”  
Tamsin’s Typhoon broke to the right and swung back to the south, and Moggy followed.  
“Tamsin, don’t do anything stupid.”  
“I won’t. I just want to see if there’s any sign of her.”  
Moggy bit his lip before replying. “You and I both know that there was no possible way she survived that.”  
“I still need to check.”  
Moggy looked ahead to see the creature fling… is that a minivan? “TAMSIN, BREAK RIGHT!”  
The two jets dodged the flying vehicle and climbed to a safer altitude. “BOTTLE 2 to all points. Any sign of a ‘chute?”  
_“This is SLAMMER 7. No chute. Repeat, no chute. Sorry for your loss, ma’am.”_  
A new voice came on the air. _“BOTTLE flight, this is EAGLE EYE 1. Knock it off, knock it off, knock it off. Climb to 15000 and abort to Travis immediately. Out.”_  
Moggy pitched the nose of the plane up and swiftly climbed to the ordered altitude, then headed to Travis AFB. _Damnit. We lost her. And Tams is gonna get grounded… Can we even contribute at this point?_

-.-.-

_Southeast of Golden Gate Park_   
_1157_

“YES! We’ve got Bacon!”  
Sanchez grinned. “Awesome. Let’s see what we’ve got waiting for us.”  
The Lieutenant logged into the local battlenet. “’Bout the only thing those blue suits are good for is providing us with internet on the fly.”  
Sanchez looked at the screen as the Battlefield Aerial Communication Network fed them the “big picture” of the situation. “Aw, _fuuuuck_. That hospital… We have to get them out of there, sir.”  
“Agreed. Alright, guys. Up to the next light, then hang a left and hustle! Corpsman!”  
“Sir?”  
“Ready to earn your pay?”  
“Damn straight, sir.”  
“Good. They may need help. Move out!”

-.-.-

David had managed to convince more than a dozen taxis to help evacuate the hospital, carrying those unable to walk to safety. However, there were still a large number of people who needed help getting out of the area… and David was running out of cash to bribe the taxi drivers with. He looked along the street, seeking anything that could help. “Come on, there’s gotta be some way to get them out of here…”  
A series of _thuds_ rippled from the east, and David instinctively ducked behind a parked car. _They’re too far away for the shrapnel to get this far… I think._ He looked over the car to see the creature reaching out and swatting at a passing Harrier. Luckily for the pilot, it missed. _They’re not doing much to slow it down…_  
“Come on, Marines! MOVE IT!”  
David looked back to the west to see a platoon of Marines barreling down the sidewalk towards him. “Hey, wait up! I need some help!”  
One of the Marines stopped, while the rest kept running. “What’s the problem, sir?”  
David looked at the name tag. SANCHEZ. “Look, I need help getting rides for people at the hospital. My girlfriend… She’s one of the trauma surgeons there, and she’s running triage. But they need rides for people to get out of the path of that thing.”  
Sanchez nodded and grabbed his radio. “LT, hold up. Got some info on the hospital.”  
_“Meet us there, Sergeant.”_  
Sanchez rolled his eyes and tipped his head in the direction of the hospital. “Come on, sir. Walk and talk.”  
David followed the Marine down the sidewalk. “What do you need to know?”  
“How many people do you have there? How many need immediate evac to another trauma center? How many walking wounded? That kind of stuff.”  
The two turned into the lobby to find the Marines already taking inventory of the supplies in the room. Mia was talking with a lanky young man. _Their leader, I guess._ “Hey, hon.”  
Mia held up a hand as she continued her discussion with the Marine. “Look, we’ve got people in surgery right now that can’t be moved. It’d kill them.”  
“Ma’am, I get that. And I’m saying that you need to stabilize them as best you can so that they can be moved to a medevac bird. We’ll take them to the Boxer. Top-notch care meant for battlefield trauma cases.”  
“No, you don’t get it. They can’t be moved. At all. Not until the surgery’s done.”  
There was an explosion and an earth-shaking roar, and pieces of airplane fell into the street just outside the doors of the lobby.  
“See? We need to get them out of here NOW. Not when it’s convenient.”  
David pointed out the door. “Mia, I’ve been watching that thing. If we don’t move now, we’re gonna get stomped. It’s plowing a path through Little Saigon and Cathedral Hill as we speak.”  
Mia glowered at David, then nodded once. “Fine. But if they die in transit…”  
“It’ll be on us, ma’am. Just get them stable enough to move, and we’ll take care of them from there.”  
“Okay, then. Let me pass the word to the ORs.”  
“And I’ll get the birds in motion. Sanchez!”  
“Sir!”  
“Get on the horn with command, and let them know they’ve got trauma cases inbound.”  
“Yes, sir.” Sanchez grabbed a radio and walked outside, where he input a particular frequency from memory. Please be listening… “All stations, this is Bravo Green. Requesting MEDEVAC, multiple casualties. Repeat, requesting MEDEVAC, multiple casualties. Please respond.”  
A few moments later, the radio snapped once, and an overly calm Australian voice came out of the speaker. _“Bravo Green, this is KOOKABURRA 2. Copy call for dustoff. Standby…”_ The radio snapped, and Sanchez looked around him, seeking a good viewpoint. “Hey, Silva, give me a hand real quick?”

-.-.-

Olivia looked down from her holding point at the devastation below. _We’re not even scratching the thing! There has to be a way to hurt it._ As she watched, another Strike Eagle tore across the city, afterburners lit as it charged into the fray. It released a bomb and pitched up, trying to escape the creature’s reach. The clawed hand just barely missed the aircraft, which continued to pull until it was headed the opposite direction it had come from.  
_“BULLDOG 8, this is KOOKABURRA 2. How copy?”_  
“Loud and clear, KOOKABURRA. What’s up?”  
_“I need eyes on a target. Multiple wounded need MEDEVAC. Some Marine’s calling it in, but I can’t tell where it is from 30,000 feet with no windows.”_  
“Put him on the line.”  
_“Yes, ma’am.”_

-.-.-

Sanchez was about ready to throw the radio down the hill in frustration. _Fucking idiots. Can’t find us on a map when we’re giving them GPS coordinates._  
The radio snapped, and a new voice came on. _“Bravo Green, my name is Boomer, and I’m your FAC for the day. How can I help you?”_  
Sanchez blinked at the sudden change. _Forward Air Controller? Damn, things are looking up._ “Boomer, I’m at the UCSF Medical Center, north of Sutro Tower. Need multiple trauma cases airlifted to the Boxer ASAP.”  
_“Sutro Tower’s the big three-pointed one, right?”_  
“Roger that, ma’am. We’re to the north of that, partially down the hill.”  
_“Okay, I think I see you. Throw orange smoke to confirm.”_  
“MASTERSON, GIMME YOUR SMOKE GRENADE!”  
The younger Marine quickly tossed the canister to Sanchez, who then scrambled up the fire escape and onto the roof. “Orange smoke, roger.” He pulled the pin and rolled it across the roof a ways, then walked upwind of the grenade. A few moments later, a cloud of orange smoke billowed from the device, marking the platoon’s general position for all to see. He watched as an A-10 flew by to the north and rocked its wings.  
_“Alrighty, Bravo Green. I have a positive ID on your location. I’m going to wrangle some birds to get your wounded out, so find a big LZ, and quick.”_  
“Yes, ma’am!” Sanchez clipped the radio to his vest and hurried down the ladder. The LT was waiting. “Sir, I am in contact with a FAC. She’s going to get us some airlift. We just need an LZ.”  
“Good work, Seargent.” The Lieutenant looked down a hallway to the parking structure on the other side of the building, then grabbed his radio. “Jensen? Williams? I need you at the parking structure now.”  
Sanchez frowned. “Sir? We’ve got cars still in the way.”  
“Silva? You too. Play time.”  
There was a whoop from down the street, and Sanchez shook his head in dismay. _Great…_

-.-.-

Olivia orbited the hill, watching the Marines moving the cars off the parking garage’s upper deck. _Now, how are they going to deal with that light pole?_ She kept an eye on the area as she flew past again, and spied them attaching something to the pole. _What are they doing?_

-.-.-

Enrique walked out and double checked the improvised charge. “Okay, we’ve got the concave channel, some C4 behind that, eight saline bags backing those… Alright, everyone get back. Jensen, detonator, please.”  
The PFC handed Sanchez the small device, then ran for cover in the atrium.  
Sanchez gently eased apart the bags of saline and placed the detonator in the plastic explosive ring the Marines had wrapped around the base of the light pole. A pair of wires led out of the assembled charge to the activator. Sanchez made sure they were placed correctly, then jogged back to the atrium. He took the activator in one hand and looked at the sky above. _Wait… Aha!_ “FIRE IN THE HOLE! FIRE IN THE HOLE! FIRE IN THE HOLE!”  
_Click._  
 ** _WHUMP._**

-.-.-

Olivia watched as the base of the light pole was obscured by the detonating charge, then toppled away from the building. _Nice! I’ll have to ask what that was some other time._  
The Marines hustled out and dragged the remains of the light pole to the edge of the parking structure, then heaved it over the edge. “KOOKABURRA 2, this is BULLDOG 8. LZ secured. Coordinates to follow.”  
_“Copy that, BULLDOG. Patching in the MEDEVAC birds now.”_  
There was a moment of silence on the radio, followed by a new voice. _“BULLDOG 8, that you?”_  
Olivia grinned. “PELICAN! Good to have you back!”  
_“Pfft. Like we could miss the action? Come on, Boomer, you know me.”_  
“Likewise, Miri. Okay, got a job for you. You know the big TV tower in San Fran?”  
_“Sutro? Yeah, eyes on it right now. What’s up?”_  
North of the tower, down the hill, there’s a hospital. Need multiple dustoffs to the Boxer, ASAP.”  
_“Copy. Got any guys on the ground?”_  
“Affirmative. Platoon of leathernecks.”  
_“Alright. Patch me through.”_

-.-.-

_AT &T Park Ferry Terminal_   
_1225_

Tendo sighed in relief as a ferry pulled into the dock. “About damn time. Alright folks, keep it orderly!”  
“Who put you in charge?” “Yeah, why do you get to tell us what to do?”  
“Because I WORK for the company that runs the ferries, and I know how to drop the gangway. So shut up, don’t shove, and we’ll get you out of here, alright?”  
The crowds calmed down, and Tendo dropped the ramp to the ferry. “Okay, folks, calmly now.”  
As people began to board the ferry, Tendo walked over to Yeye. He’d wiped the worst of the blood off, but it seemed to Tendo that Yeye wasn’t feeling well after being splattered with it. _God only knows what crap’s in it, anyways_. “Come on, Yeye. Time to go.”  
Yeye nodded and coughed before getting up. Tendo slung an arm around his grandfather’s shoulders, waited for the last of the evacuees to board, then boarded the ferry himself. “That’s it for this run. Let’s get outta here.”

-.-.-

_Near Travis AFB_   
_Vacaville, CA_   
_That same time…_

Moggy watched Tamsin carefully as she came in for final approach. “Little bit more nose up, Tams. That’s it. Steady… Beautiful. Right in the slot, boss.”  
The cockpit audio warning rang out. “ONE HUNDRED.”  
“Shut up, Betty.”  
“FIFTY. FORTY. THIRTY.”  
“Nose up a little, Tams.”  
“TWENTY. TEN. FIVE.”  
“There you go.” Moggy felt his own landing gear contact the runway, and he opened the dorsal airbrake. “That’s it. Lemme lead you in, ‘kay?”  
Just like the last half hour, Tamsin didn’t respond. Moggy assumed that she was simply in shock, and unwilling to talk. He didn’t blame her at all. _I’d be hurting that bad if I lost a close friend like that, too._ Moggy turned off the runway and checked to make sure that Tamsin was following. Thankfully, she was. “Okay, boss, almost done. Couple more minutes to taxi in and shut down, and then we’re done.”  
An olive drab colored truck with a “FOLLOW ME” sign rolled up in front of them, and Moggy chuckled. _Well, hard to argue with that._

-.-.-

Moggy talked Tamsin through shutdown, then hurried out of his own aircraft and over to hers. “Hey. Anything I can do to help?”  
Tamsin just nodded, and Moggy scrambled up the ladder. Tears streaked her face and ran down her oxygen mask. Moggy carefully unhooked Tamsin from the ejection seat, then easer her helmet off. “Hey… let’s get you out of here, yeah?” Another nod, and Moggy helped her from the cockpit. “Easy, boss. That’s it. One step at a time.”

-.-.-

As soon as they reached the ground, Tamsin flopped down and began to openly cry. _Gone… Gone… No… Luna…_  
She barely noticed the medics helping her into an ambulance and taking her to be checked over.  
_Gone..._

-.-.-

_UCSF Medical Center_   
_1237_

  
Miriam eased the Pave Hawk down to the impromptu helipad and pulled the engines down to idle. “Go!”  
Behind her, the PJs exited the helicopter and walked over to the Marines and doctors at the atrium to discuss the first patient to be airlifted. “Boomer, how we looking up there?”  
_“The rest of the Mudhens have managed to keep the Kaiju’s attention focused elsewhere for the moment.”_  
“Wait… Kaiju?”  
An exasperated sigh came from Miriam's headset. _“You and your love of romcoms, Miri. I told you you should have joined me at least once for a monster movie marathon.”_  
“Hey now. I have sane hobbies, like watching romcoms and chess. Yours almost set our dorm room at the Academy on fire … twice.”  
There was a moment of hesitation before Olivia responded. _“ANYWAYS. Kaiju. Japanese giant monsters. Like Godzilla, or Mothra.”_  
“Huh. Kaiju. Has a certain ring to it, I’ll give you that.”  
_“If it sticks, I get credit, right?”_  
“Uh-huh. Hang on, wounded coming aboard. ‘Bout to get a little busy. Ring the Boxer and ask ‘em where I need to go, would you?”  
_“Roger.”_  
The door to the cargo hold rolled shut, and the PJ tapped Miriam on the shoulder. She reached up and advanced the throttles to full power, then pulled up on the collective. “Boomer? Any time now. I’m already wheels up.”  
_“25 miles southwest of you. They’re doing laps out there to support the Harriers. Expect the deck to be busy.”_  
“Copy that. And Boomer?”  
_“Yeah?”_  
“We’re gonna need a lot more helicopters.”  
 _“Yeah. I’m going to run that up the chain. Now, fly, girl, and get that person out of here.”_  
Miriam smiled and wound her way through the now-bustling airspace over the city, headed to the assault carrier.


	4. Chapter 4: Recoil

**Chapter 4: Recoil**

_UCSF improvised helipad_

_1347 Pacific Daylight Time_

Staff Sergeant Enrique Sanchez knelt and turned his back to the rotor blast as yet another blue and white civilian medevac helicopter climbed and headed to the north, bound for a hospital in San Rafael. Dust swirled for a few seconds, then tapered off as the helicopter departed the "pad" perimeter. He then stood up and walked over to the LT. "How many more?"

Lieutenant Wilson looked into the lobby of the hospital. "Not many. Five, six? Almost done. Why?"

As if on cue, the forward air controller radio that Sanchez carried crackled to life. _"Bravo Green, sitrep?_ "

"Got a few more, Boomer. Almost done."

_"That's good, because once this is done, word from on high is that your platoon is to go out into the wreckage and hunt for survivors."_

The two Marines looked at each other, worried looks on their faces.

_"Yo, look alive, 'nother bird coming in."_

"Roger."

-.-.-

_White House_

_1650 Eastern Daylight Time (1350 PDT)_

"Mr. President? Do you want us to execute the mission?"

The President looked at the mission plan summary laid out before him. It was going to take at least 8 hours to perform, and it could end the attack on San Francisco in a single blow. But it was a precision strike, one that relied on numerous assumptions about the anatomy of the creature laying waste to the city. "What are the other options?"

The Chief of Staff of the Air Force squirmed in his seat. "There's two other options that the Air Force can field, and the Navy can field a third. However... all three are nuclear."

The President sat quiet for a minute, deciding. Everyone in the Oval Office waited for his decision.

"Go ahead with the strike... but prepare the backup options immediately. Bring me a summary of each as soon as it becomes available."

The Chief of Staff nodded, saluted the President, and left the Oval Office at a jog.

-.-.-

_U.C. Berkley Medical Center_

_1400_

Tendo walked into the crowded emergency room and flagged down a passing nurse. "Hey, I need help here!"

"You and about a hundred other people." He began to turn and walk off.

Tendo grabbed the nurse by the shoulder. "My grandfather's having breathing trouble. Can you just take a look at him?"

The nurse sighed and followed Tendo outside to Yeye. "What symptoms is he.... What is that blue stuff?"

"I think it's the blood from that creature smashing up San Francisco. We were almost stomped by it, but some fighter jets shot it with something that hurt it." Tendo scratched the back of his head. "I dunno if it's the cause of the coughing, but he was fine before we left the city."

"Well, it could be the smoke and dust. There were a lot of similar cases on 9/11..."

"Whatever the cause, can you help him, please?"

"Yes. We'll get some oxygen for him. You have a cellphone?"

"Yeah, but the network's swamped. Can't make any calls."

The nurse nodded. "We've got enough outbound bandwitdth to make calls to emergency contacts if needed. So, if we can get your number down, we can contact you if anything changes."

Tendo quickly wrote the number on a scrap of paper and handed it to the nurse. "I'm gonna go back and see what I can do to help."

"Good luck."

Tendo nodded and walked back towards the ferry docks.

-.-.-

_UCSF  improvised helipad_

_1407_

Mia watched the USMC UH-1Y Venom head off towards the coast with the last patient aboard. "Well. Evacuation of the hospital is complete. What's next?"

The sergeant was already on the radio, probably talking to the plane that been circling the hill for the last two hours. He nodded once, then walked over to his boss. "Sir, higher up wants a sitrep."

"Evac of the hospital is largely complete. Just surgeons and other medical personnel left. Ask if they can use more of them anywhere else."

Mia looked down at her clothes, now soaked with the blood of people she'd helped stabilize for airlift. _Wait... blood._ "Uhm, Mr. Marine?"

The boss walked over. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Ask them if they need more blood. Because there's a whole supply of it here, and I'm pretty sure they'll need it elsewhere."

The man blinked twice, then turned around and started shouting orders. "SILVA! Get your ass down to the ER, find me every last mobile gurney that's left down there. Take your team with you. Beat feet, Lance!"

Another Marine saluted, grabbed two others, and sprinted into the atrium and down the stairwell.

"First squad! Follow the good doctor here and follow her directions. You're going to be saving a lot of lives. Move!"

Mia waved them towards the door that led to the blood bank. "Right, do NOT mix up the bags. They're clearly labeled with blood types. And mixing blood types is bad, okay?"

One of the Marines spoke up. "Ma'am? We understand blood types. One of the things we've trained on is giving transfusions in the field to keep a fellow soldier alive until help arrives."

"Oh. Well, then. Just... Try to keep them orderly, and don't drop the bags."

The Marine nodded, then pointed at some abandoned hospital beds. "Patterson, Deckard, grab those. Anyone else with free hands, grab any others you see. We'll need at least eight."

Mia thought about it for a moment before realizing what the man had in mind. _To keep them sorted and to carry large numbers at once. Brilliant!_ "Right, here we are." Mia swiped her ID card, and the door opened. The Marines with her piled into the room and quickly emptied the storage racks onto the beds. _Hmmm..._ "On second thought, let's try and provide a decent mix of bags when when ship them-"

The building shook around them and dust fell from the ceiling. The Marine leading the small group pointed at another, then quickly gestured out the door. The other Marine nodded once before jogging down the hall. He started to turn the corner, then dodged around Silva and three other Marines pushing ambulance gurneys. "All we could find, ma'am. How do you want to do this?"

Mia took a deep breath, then began directing the Marines on sorting out the bags of blood. _Please let us have the time we need to get this done before that... thing... comes for us._

-.-.-

_Travis AFB_

_Flight operations office_

_1415_

"Like hell you're grounding us." Moggy glared at the American. "We can help still. Hell, you've lost more birds than us. Don't see you grounding your squadrons."

The Major glared back. "Look, you've lost one of your senior commanders to that... thing, and the other is in shock. You can't-"

"Stuff it, Yank. We're going. We've still got some cannon ammo to use right now, and they promised to send up bombs for everyone." He stormed past the Major and walked out to his plane. Behind him, Sticky and four other RAF pilots shoved their way past the officer and out onto the flight line. "Right, gang, let's roll."

-.-.-

_Ocean Beach_

_1420_

Ocean Beach was normally a site of relaxation and recreation. Now, however, it looked rather like an invasion was taking place. To be fair, this observation wasn't far off the mark.

Especially once the LCACs arrived.

The three massive hovercraft had launched almost an hour earlier from the _Boxer_ and her attendent ships that made up the Marine Expeditionary Unit, then had raced up the coast to Ocean Beach to deliver their cargo as close to the Kaiju as possible. As each hovercraft arrived at the beach, it eased onto the firmer wet sand, then shut down its engines and settled down to the ground. A heavy duty ramp extended from the bow, and a small team of Marines scrambled out of the crew cabin and untied the load... a 66-ton M1A2 Abrams main battle tank. The teams worked quickly and skillfully, prepping the massive war machines for action. Then, with a rising howl from its onboard gas turbine engine, the first tank lurched onto the beach, up a sandy embankment, and onto Lincoln Way.

The tank commander took in the vehicles scattered across the road and grinned. _I've always wanted to play monster tank..._ "Driver... hit it!"

-.-.-

Boomer watched the tank lurch up the street, batting aside cars and trucks like they were made from styrofoam. _That looks like fun..._ "KOOKABURRA 2, any idea what the frequency for those tanks is?"

_"Tanks? What tanks?"_

"The three Abrams rolling off of Ocan Beach and up Lincoln Way?"

_"Hold one."_

Boomer swept past the hospital again, checking on the Marines. _What are they up to down there?_ "KOOKABURRA, if we can't get in touch with them, they could wander into a dead end, or-"

_"BULLDOG 8, contact established. They're teamed up with a pair of Venoms. They also said, and I do quote, 'Stand back. We're gonna try something.'"_

"Craaaaaap...." Boomer waggled her wings at the UH-1Ys riding shotgun over the tanks, then got onto the squadron channel. "Bulldogs, get clear of the Kaiju! The Leathernecks got their tanks ashore and want to do something stupid."

_"Copy, Boomer. Breaking off run, for what little good it would have done..."_

As she watched, the first tank skidded to a halt and swung its turret to the north. _Here we go..._

_-.-.-_

The Kaiju had moved to the north side of Golden Gate Park by this time, and was almost directly north of the first tank. It was also slightly downhill, allowing the tank to bring its powerful 120mm smoothbore cannon to bear on the torso of the beast.

The tank commander smiled as the creature began to lumber into view. "Load sabot!"

The loader hit the ammo comaprtment door switch with his knee and withdrew the requested shell. As he pivoted to place the round in the cannon breech, he let up on the switch, and the blast door snapped shut. He slid the shell into the breech and released the breech block, which slid up and closed off the gun. "GUN UP!" He then stepped clear of the recoil path and closed his overhead hatch.

The tank commander waited a second, then also ducked fully into the turret and dogged his hatch shut. "Gunner! Target an extremity, if you can. I suggest a joint."

"Copy." There was a pause, then the turret moved slightly. "Target sighted!"

The commander didn't hesitate. "FIRE!"

"ON THE WAY!"

_WHAM._

The tank bucked as the powerful cannon spat the projectile downrange. As the round left the barrel, three plastic "petals" detached from the much smaller, dart-like projectile, allowing it to fly free at more than 4 times the speed of sound. In under a second, the round flashed across Golden Gate Park and three additional blocks, where it slammed into the Kaiju's left flank just below the secondary arm. The projectile, intended to penetrate both reactive and composite tank armor, tore through the thick hide of the Kaiju with ease and continued onwards until it struck a rib.

The Kaiju let out an earth-shaking roar of agony as the round spent its kinetic energy in the rib, fracturing it.

-.-.-

_2 floors below UCSF Medical Center street level_

Silva winced as the roar from the Kaiju shattered the fluorescent tubes lighting the hallway. "Damn! What'd they do to that thing?"

Lance Corporal Jensen listened closely as the roaring stopped for a moment, and heard another distinctive _CRACK_ as the Abrams fired again, eliciting another roar from the creature. "Sounds like the tanks hit the beach!"

Silva groaned. "Why do they get all the fun toys!?"

-.-.-

Boomer watched the tank round flash across the park and into the Kaiju. "Oh, yeah. That's what I'm talkin' 'bout!" She toggled the radio, still grinning under her oxygen mask. "KOOKABURRA 2, Marines have engaged the Kaiju with an Abrams tank. Looks like they actually hurt the thing!" She paused and flicked the Warthog into a hard bank and looked down at the scene below in time to see a car smash to the ground near the tank, scattering parts and flaming gasoline across the area. "Aaand the Kaiju has decided to attack the tank. Joy. Permission to try something to draw some of the heat off them?" A quick flick of her wrist, and the A-10 snapped into a right bank, bringing Boomer around and lining her up with the creature's head. _Let's see what the big gun does...._

 _"Negative, BULLDOG._ _Disengage."_

Boomer grinned as she squeezed the trigger, and the massive rotary cannon that dominated the fuselage of the aircraft sprang to life. _Too slow, guys!_

-.-.-

_Improvised helipad_

Sanchez and the other Marines instinctively hit the deck as the distinctive " _BRRRRRRRRRTTTTT"_ of an A-10's main gun filled the air. "Great, the 'Hogs have gone to their guns... Shit just got real."

Beside him, the LT bounced back to his feet. "What were they... Jesus fuck."

Sanchez let out a low whistle of respect as he watched the creature lumber to the north, trailing blood from its massive crest. "Well, I do think our guardian angel got its attention."

There was another loud CRACK as an Abrams fired another round, followed by the howl of its engine as it accelerated towards cover.

Sanchez and the LT looked at each other, then back to the hospital. "Time to bail out?"

"Yup. _Let's move out, Marines!_ "

Sanchez rushed back into the hospital and eyed the doctors and nurses still present. "We're leaving, people! Let's move!"

Mia stepped forward. "Where are we going? We're still able to help out."

Sanchez headed out the door. "Anywhere but here, for starters. Despite the Chair Force's best efforts, that thing is getting a little too close for comfort. And you can't help if you're dead." Sanchez watched the Marines rush out onto the top of the parking garage with the last gurney of blood bags and roll it under the tail of a waiting medevac helicopter, which quickly loaded the gurney and lifted off. "Sir, recommend we beat feet to the south ASAP. Wheels if we can get 'em, on foot if it's a logjam."

"Probably a logjam, Sergeant. You've seen how people react in a panic."

Sanchez frowned before nodding. "Point, sir. I'll get the platoon in gear and headed out. What's our rally point?"

"Uhm.... Looks like City College. 'Bout 4 miles actual."

"Right. Masterson, round 'em up, get 'em in gear."

"Yes sir, sergeant!"

Lt. Wilson turned to Mia. "Ma'am, strongly advise you join us for now. We'll evac you from the next rally point, get you to a hospital to help out."

Mia looked to David, who nodded. "Alright. Lead the way, Marine."

-.-.-

_7000 feet above Angel Island_

_1442_

_"BULLDOG 8, I specifically directed you to disengage!_ "

Boomer ground her teeth as she climbed up to meet the rest of her squadron. "I was already on my run when you told me that."

 _"Then you should have broken off your run."_ There was a pause before the squadron leader spoke again, with noticeably less tension in his voice. _"But I'm kinda glad you didn't. That was a good call to try for the crest."_

"More of a wild ass guess, but hey, I'll still take kudos where I can." She checked her instruments before toggling her radio again. "Say, anyone else running a little dry right now? What's our bingo field?"

As if on cue, the radio came to life with the voice of their controller. _"BULLDOG flight, this is KOOKABURRA 2. Break off and go to Travis to refuel and rearm. Gets some chow while you're at it._ "

Boomer frowned. "KOOKABURRA, BULLDOG 8 here. Any word on who's going to take over FAC duties?"

_"Hold one, BULLDOG... Sonofabitch. BOTTLE 4, how copy?"_

Boomer smiled as a distinctly British voice came on the radio. _"KOOKABURRA 2, this is BOTTLE 4. Copy loud and clear. Boomer, I'll take your spot as eyes in the skies for your Marines. Anything I should know before you go get some food and fuel?"_

Boomer dipped back down towards the city as Moggy took formation off her left wingtip. "Yeah, aim for the crest. It's a little thinner skinned and seems to be somewhat more sensistive. Bravo Green, how copy?"

_"Sorry you have to leave the party so suddenly, Boomer, but we'll manage. BOTTLE 4, you have a name?"_

_"Moggy, sir. Boomer, where are they right now?"_

Boomer looked down at the city below. "Sarge, you guys pulling back yet? The Kaiju's getting a little close to that hospital."

_"Affirmative. Pulling last civilians out now, along with a supply of blood we're going to take to the next evac LZ and try to distribute it. We're currently hoofing it until we clear the worst of the traffic jams."_

There was a long pause before Moggy replied. _"You... may be hoofing it for a while, then. The roads are a bloody parking lot now._ "

_"Well, shit. How far does that go?"_

_"A ways, Bravo Green. Unless you want that tank to your east to bulldoze you a path."_

Boomer watched the tank in question swivel its turret and unleash another round, this time to less effect. _Hmm. Wonder what's different._ "Nah, tank's doing its job of covering the troops. Advise you swing over to the west and run along the side of the hills. What street is that, anyways?"

_"Local source says 7th. I'm not in a position to argue with them."_

Moggy rocked his wings, and Boomer did the same before breaking to the east. "Well, I'm going to go rearm and refuel. Be back in a bit, Sanchez."

_"Solid copy, Boomer. Thanks for the cover."_

-.-.-

_Travis AFB_

_1501_

Miriam settled her helicopter to the ground just off the main flightline in a swirl of dust and dried grass. _Man, FOD's gonna be a bitch... Good thing we've still got the sand filters installed._ "Okay, people. Take twenty, get some food and water, and get ready to roll again." She shut down the engines, and the rotors of her helicopter slowed, then stopped. She took a few moments to catch her breath and collect her thoughts before pulling off her helmet and exiting the cockpit. "Young, if you want to eyeball anything on the engines, now is the only chance you'll get for the next few hours."

The crew chief/gunner nodded and promptly scrambled up onto the roof of the helicopter, popping open access hatches as he went. "Grab me some chow and water, boss?"

"Got it. I'll be back in ten or so." Miriam waved to a passing vehicle, which slowed down and let her hop on. "Wherever there's food and water."

The airman nodded and waited as two other pilots piled into the back of the pickup truck. "This is an absolute disaster, if I do say so myself, ma'am."

Miriam let her fatigue and frustration get the better of her, and her response carried more of a bite than she had intended... or was proper. " _Oh_?"

The airman gulped, realizing he'd overstepped his bounds. "Nothing, ma'am." He pointedly focused on the pavement ahead of the truck.

Miriam sighed and let her head roll back briefly. _He has a point, though... this is a utter Charlie Foxtrot right now._ Her reprieve didn't last long, however, as the sound of a flight of A-10 Warthogs landing reached her ears. She opened one eye and rolled her head enough to see the next flight of Warthogs settle down on the runway. _Let's see... 5, 6... There's Boomer's bird. She made it here without doing something terminally stupid._

-.-.-

Boomer followed the rest of the squadron into a parking area and shut down the engines, popped her canopy, and released the built-in boarding ladder on the side of the fuselage. A quick glance around her revealed no additional help was coming, so she began to unhook the restraints that tied her to her ejection seat.

"Hang on, ma'am, let me help you with that."

Boomer's head whipped around to see a young female airman looking over the side of her cockpit. "Do you have an ejection seat safing kit, kid?"

The airman held up a red metal bracket. "This thing?"

"That's the one. Here, gimme. I'd rather not have the rocket motor I'm sitting on go off right now, yeah?"

"Good point, ma'am. Oh, your crew chief is on his way. Last check put his transport about 20 minutes out."

"Thank you, Airman, I can get it from here." Boomer undid the last of the restraints and stretched out for a moment. "And thank you for the information. I'm sure Mike will want to get to work right away on rearming. What's the situaion for ordinance?"

"No clue right now, ma'am. You probably have a better idea than I do, to be honest."

"What's your name, Airman?"

"Airman Rebecca Silviera, ma'am." Rebecca climbed down the ladder to make space for Boomer.

"Okay, Rebecca. Thank you for the help with getting me unhooked. Want me to pick you up some water or food?"

"No thank you, ma'am. I'm fine for now. But thanks for asking."

"No problem." Boomer noticed her commandeing officer waving her over. "Right, gotta go. Keep the pidgeons outta the cockpit for me."

"Uhhhhh... sure?" Rebecca looked around as Boomer sprinted off towards her CO, helmet tucked under her arm, then leaned against the side of the A-10. "Keep the pidgeons out of the cockpit my ass."

_-.-.-_

_1517_

_San Francisco waterfront_

Crunch slammed the engine compartment shut on the boat and gave the owner a thumbs-up as he jumped back onto the dock, then helped an older couple into the boat before heading over to the temporary HQ the police had set up.

A lieutenant clapped Crunch on the shoulder. "Thanks for fixing that boat."

"Eh. Big or small, I've fixed them all. What's next?"

Before the police officer could respond, the monster let loose another earth-shaking screech, shattering the few unbroken windows in the area.

Crunch ducked instinctively, then looked skyward to see... _is that an Israeli F-16? How.._.?... streaking in on an attack run. As he watched, several unguided 500 pound-class bombs rippled from racks beneath the wings and slammed into the creature's flank, not far from a bright blue wound. A series of explosions followed, and the HQ hit the deck as shrapnel pinged all around them. "RUN!!!!!"

The Sergeant on scene took off running, and everyone grabbed what they could and followed.

Crunch looked over his shoulder as he ran, watching the creature closing in on them until another strike from the west temporarily redirected the attentions of the beast back into the ruins of central San Francisco.

The lieutenant looked at Crunch, fear in his eyes. "What's next? Get the fuck off the peninsula and set up camp on the other side of the bay."

"No arguments there, sir. LET'S MOVE, PEOPLE!"

-.-.-

_1527_

_Travis AFB, improvised mess hall_

"They're gonna do _what??!?_ " Boomer plunked down into a seat alongside Miriam, aghast at the news she'd just received.

"Okay, lemme make sure you got this... The 9th Bomber Squadron was down at Nellis plinking stuff from on high with JDAMs, yeah? Well, they've not been packing up to go back to Dyess... They're packing every last bomb they could scrounge at Nellis into their B-1s and they're going to make a conventional, level, unguided bombing run on this... Kaiju... in a few hours. Shortly before nightfall, in fact." Miriam sighed and took a huge bite of the sandwich in her hands.

Boomer stared at her former Academy roommate as she processed what she'd just been told. "So, no JDAMs, no Paveways, nothing precision."

"None."

"But the collateral damage will be..."

"Huge, I know. But, that's the gospel truth. Look, you're the closest thing I have to a sister, and vice versa, _si?_ Would I bullshit something like this?"

"I just... When was the last time a U.S. bomber squadron did a mission like this? Y'know, a massed, formation drop of unguided ordinance?"

"Vietnam, as part of Operation Linebacker II. I asked." Miriam shook her head. "Look, I agree, this is some Grade-A bullshit, but do you really think the brass will consider the word of two lowly O-3s? I mean, seriously, Boomer. There is no way in hell you or I can convince them to change their plans."

"So, we're supposed to fly into the area where _unguided_ munitions will soon be falling to keep the Kaiju distraced long enough for the bomber crews to line up their drop?"

"Like I said, Grade-A BS." Miriam finished off her sandwich and took a long drink of water. "Look, we can sit here and debate this for hours, but right now, people out there are dying, and we both need to get back out there and do what Uncle Sam pays us to do."

"Blow shit up."

"Amen, sis. Now let's saddle up and see if we can put enough ordinance on target to kill this thing."

"Pffft. All you have are a few Ma Deuces. You really think you're gonna-"

A shout rang out from outside, followed by cries of dismay. The two pilots piled out the door to see a large crowd around a hastily erected information hub. Several TVs were displaying footage from CNN, Fox, and NBC showing the Kaiju smacking a Marine Corps attack helicopter from the sky.

"Fucking hell. MOVE!" Miriam began to run to her helicopter.

Boomer pulled her bandana over her head, already at a dead run towards her Warthog. "Make a hole, people! Hog driver with a mission!"

-.-.-

Miriam skidded to a halt not far from her helicopter as a full-bird Colonel waved her down. "Captain Ramirez? Colonel Rodgers, USMC. I need you to do something for me."

"Make it quick, sir, I need to get airborne ASAP."

The senior officer noticed Miriam's brusque attitude and decided not to call her on it. "I have a platoon of Marines hoofing it just ahead of that... thing."

"Kaiju."

"What?"

"Kaiju. Japanese for 'monster' or 'beast'."

"Huh. Fits. Anyhow, they need to be pulled out. They have several civilians they're escorting as well. The civilians get priority exfil."

"Take it up with KOOKABURRA. They've been running taskings."

"Captain.."

"Sir, I hear that you're concerned for your Marines... but I just saw one of your Vipers get slapped out of the sky like a bug. There is a very good chance that any helicopter that gets in close will get taken out like that."

The Marine opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the roar of a departing F-15E thundering down the runway, hardpoints loaded with fresh bombs.

"Remember, sir, KOOKABURRA. The Aussie bird." Miriam waved her hand in a circle above her head as she ran back towards her helicopter. "Let's go, gang!"

-.-.-

Boomer slowed her jog as she approached her Warthog, which was the scene of much activity as a crew of airmen worked to rearm the plane. "Mike!"

"Boomer! There you are. You have no idea how glad I am to see my bird in one piece."

" _Your_ bird? Whose name is on the canopy rails again?" Boomer laughed and wrapped her crew chief in a hug. "So, what bundles of explosive joy do you have for me today?"

"Well, I noticed that Mk-80 series were doing jack shit, and even BLU-109s weren't fairing much better, so I got you a pair each of 7 and 19 round rocket pods. Jarheads are reportedly doing decently with them, so you probably could do some serious damage. Also got a few Mavericks for you, but those were a hard scavenge. The local Warthog unit at Nellis took off with most of 'em, and we'll find out shortly how well they work. No cannon ammo, though... Bit too heavy to load on a Herc on short notice. So be stingy with the 30 mike mike, ma'am. It'll be a few hours until we can get some up here from home base."

Boomer walked under the wing her Warthog and took note of the warheads on the rockets in the first 7-round pod. "Really, Mike? Willie Pete?"

"Hey, it's all that was left. Besides, target marking."

"Okay, fair enough. And given the sheer number of HEDPs you've stuffed into 19-tube pod, I'll forgive you. Oooh, Hotel model Maverick? Interesting choice, Mike."

"Shaped charge. Figured it might do a little better against Fat Man out there."

"Kaiju, Mike. How many Tokosatsu movies do I have to show you before that settles in?"

"Eh. Few more, I guess."

"Heathen. Okay, a few more... What the... CRV7s? Where'd you dig up those?"

"Our British friends had some intended for use on their Typhoons for training, but they left 'em in the rush. I figure that they'll forgive us putting them to better use. They're steel core warheads for training, but given how fast they fly..."

"I've never used CRV7s before, Mike. Do you really think now is the time to bring me new ordinance?"

Mike was about to protest when the squadron leader jogged up. "Boomer, quit gabbing and mount up. We need to cover the Marines." He turned to leave, stopped, and turned back to the rocket pod. "Mike, I'm not even going to ask how you found some CRV7s... But good find. Send a 7-pod of 'em to Stevo if you have any to spare. Boomer, be stingy with those, and aim a little higher than you would with Hydras. They're scary fast, and accurate as hell, so make 'em count."

"Yes, sir. See you up there!"

The CO left at a jog, leaving Boomer and Mike sharing a well-practiced glance.

"Welp."

"Yep. Let's get this show on the road, Mike." Boomer scrambled up the boarding ladder and dropped into her ejection seat, then donned her helmet and began to preflight her plane.

-.-.-


End file.
